Be With You
by MeiMei-Chan1
Summary: Songfic------Just Read It. 'All' of my muses cried while they read this one....I sniffled a bit......happy ending though!


Be With You: Enrique Iglesias  
  
  
Be With You by Crimson Tears  
  
  
*Monday night I feel so low   
Count the hours they go so slow*   
  
  
"Time to close up."   
  
  
The rich baritone cut through his internal musings, sparking the first reaction all night. Duo turned slightly red-rimmed eyes towards the voice's owner, Joe, and twisted his face into what could be called a smile, although it was really a tightening of the skin around his eyes.   
  
  
"Already, Joe?" Duo asked with mock-sadness, and tossed back his rum and Coke with practiced ease. "It's not even midnight." He swiped at the counter with a damp rag, cleaning off the sticky fingerprints left behind countless broken-hearted men, all desperate like Duo, all dying like he was. The only difference was which side of the bar they stood on. The young ex-pilot had kicked his drinking problem years before-it was the masochistic tendency inside him that had jumped at a chance to bartend, to be surrounded constantly by the amber-colored liquid that slid seductively from the mouth of the bottle.   
  
  
The older man stroked his pepper-shaded beard thoughtfully. "It's Christmas Eve, Duo. Don't you have family or something?" Seeing his skeptical look, Joe hastily added, "You know? Cheek-pinching grannies? Fruitcake hard enough to build houses with?" Duo grinned; Joe worried so much about him. It was endearing in a way, and suffocating in another. He knew nothing of Duo's history as a pilot, which entailed dodgy stories and outright lies about his past.   
  
  
"No family." Joe shrugged and tucked his pencil behind his ear, closing the ledger he'd been examining. "Just me and reruns of Geraldo."   
  
  
"Well, take the night off. No one should be working on Christmas Eve."   
  
  
A few minutes later, Duo emerged from the smoky bar, a white cloud trailing him down the street. His hands were buried in his pockets, surrounded by random receipts and small balls of string. He could feel the cold slowly melting into his cheeks, flushing with the bite of the winter night's chill.   
  
  
"HEE~ERO!"   
  
  
*I know the sound of your voice   
Can save my soul*   
  
  
Duo's head whipped around, his braid slapping his shoulder several times before resting along the slim line of his back, eyes darting from one side of the lamp-lit street to the other. Then his gaze rested on two wool-wrapped figures, their genders invisible beneath the layers of warmth. The shorter one tackled the taller one, and they both fell into the snowbank, giggles audible over the sounds of laughter and celebration coming from within one of the houses. He could see figures, silhouetted against yellow lighting, but not real, somehow, in a different dimension that Duo could not touch, or fathom.   
  
  
He stood there for almost ten minutes, cheeks red, hands slowly freezing in the pockets filled with bits of string and papers, blinking back tears.   
  
  
And then at last the braided boy bowed his head and began walking again, to the house that he knew would be empty, to the fireplace that would be barren and old, to the bed with cold sheets and tear stains on the pillows.   
  
  
He opened the door unceremoniously. There was no one waiting for him in the hall, only empty coat hooks and an emptier kitchen, where there should have been the sounds of a refrigerator being closed quickly to avoid detection, a sink running, a cabinet door being opened.   
  
  
Duo brushed his teeth and pulled on his pajamas, soft fuzzy flannel that smelled like smoke and rain, nuzzling them for a moment with his nose before reluctantly sliding them on. Yawning loudly, he laid down on his bed for another sleepless night, the sheets twining around his legs like shackles.   
  
  
*City lights, streets of gold   
Look out my window to the world below*   
  
  
And not for the first time in the two years since the war had ended, he began to wonder what his life would be like if he had said yes. If he had gone with him to L-1, had believed in Heero.   
  
  
Had believed in himself, and his right to happiness. Now all he had was a dead-end job at a bar, a house close to being condemned, and a dead weight in the pit of his stomach that followed him with a dedication that rivaled his shadow's.   
  
  
Around 3 o'clock, Duo fell asleep. And dreamed the visions of thin sleep.   
  
  
  
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Duo licked his lips nervously, feeling his tongue slide over parched skin. His eyes were trained on the young man that stalked towards him with a determination that froze him in his place. "Heero," he greeted with more confidence than he felt.   
  
  
"Duo." Heero paused before him, helmet tucked under one slender arm, and reached out with his other hand to touch his cheek. Fingers so cold, but so gentle; Duo shivered under their caress.   
  
  
"I want you to come with me," Heero said softly, the wind playing with his dark bangs, sending them fluttering around his eyes, framing his handsome face. "To L-1. We could try again."   
  
  
Duo didn't have to ask what he meant. They had broken it off months into the war, as tension between OZ, between the Romafeller Foundation, between the Colonies, began to rise. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his former lover's intense gaze showed no sign of straying elsewhere.   
  
  
"I-"   
  
  
Heero nodded encouragingly, mouth threatening to curve into a smile of triumph.   
  
  
"I don't think so, Heero." Duo swallowed hard and studied the floor, not trusting himself to meet Heero's eyes. "I want to start a new life." That this new life would not include Heero or any aspect of the war was evident in the silence that followed.   
  
  
"I understand," Heero said softly, and walked away into the coming winds, disappearing into the minute sandstorm stirred by the angry breeze.   
  
  
  
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It had all happened so fast, he thought bitterly. It wasn't fair! He couldn't just deliver an ultimatum and expect an answer right at that moment! Duo curled up on his bed, eyes beginning to gloss over with unshed tears. It was the end of the war; Duo had been overjoyed, and yet frightened. Where would Shinigami go now, when death was no longer a factor?   
  
  
Once he'd settled down, found a job, a place to live, he'd started to realize what a terrible mistake he'd made. What good was a job when he had no one to come home to afterwards? What good was a house when there was no laughter to fill it?   
  
  
He felt lethargic, as if his entire life was moving in slow motion, as if it were punishment for a wrong choice. A choice he hadn't even known that he'd made. In some part of his mind, Duo had hoped that Heero would come back again, that he wouldn't give up on him.   
  
  
*Moves so fast and it feels so cold   
And I'm all alone*   
  
  
Because there was a small part of Duo Maxwell that felt that he was unlovable. That no one cared enough to truly love him or be concerned about him; he wanted to be fussed over, to stir others to anger, even if it was directed at his pretty little head, because it meant that someone was thinking about him.   
  
  
Now no one cared about him, and this time, there was no Heero to save him.  
  
  
  
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The first thing Duo Maxwell realized as he woke was that there was a warm body pressed next to him, and a weight on his shoulder that brushed lightly over his skin with the finest silk strands. Someone's head, then. Great. Had he gotten smashed again and brought home some random boy from a club?   
  
  
The second thing Duo realized was that he hadn't gone out the night before. Which left him with one option...   
  
  
"Who the fuck are you?" He was barely surprised at the own lack of emotion in his own voice. Though he had a lighter alto than Heero's deep tenor, in his mind, their voices had melded together as one and the same. Trailing a gun at the figure, he watched as the young man (he smelled like a man, at least) yawned and turned, his rectilinear silhouette evident. Definitely a boy.   
  
  
"Mmm..." The bed-invader, and cover hog, as Duo discovered with a certain amount of dismay, let out a low groan that quickly turned into a sensuous growl as the boy nuzzled him with his nose. "Duo? What are you doing, baka?"   
  
  
The gun quickly fell from limp fingers as the American stared at his bedmate. His own voice was a little too high, a little too thin to his own ears.   
  
  
"H-heero?" Fingers reached out to grope his face, only to be met with Heero's own fingers, caressing his palm, kissing the inside of his wrist.   
  
  
"H-heero?" the Japanese pilot mimicked, propping one elbow up on the pillow. Dark blue eyes reflected vague amusement. When Duo burst into tears, his little half-smile dropped off his face and he traced circles gently on Duo's cheek, wiping the little rivers of sorrow from his pale skin. "Did you have a bad dream?"   
  
  
"This must be a dream," Duo mumbled, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of sleep. Yet Heero felt real to him, in every way that mattered. He could smell it, now, the scent of metal and sex that always surrounded Heero, could feel his skin, his fingers, touching his face, reassuring him silently. He felt as if a gaping hole in the burial grounds of his soul had suddenly been filled. No...   
  
  
As if it had never been there.   
  
  
*Don't let me die   
I'm losing my mind*   
  
  
"Heero," he murmured as his old lover began to rise from the bed, the bare lines of his back, the pebbles marking his spine, seeming entrancing. "What's the rush? We've got all day..."   
  
  
"Baka," Heero said, but it was affectionately, as if 'baka' were Duo's new pet name. For a time during the war, it had been all the stoic pilot of Wing Zero would call him, as if it were a sin to say his name. Later, he had confessed that he had been afraid the other pilots would discover their relationship. Duo had to admit, the boy had had a point. When Heero said his name, it sent shivers down his back, made his face heat and his whole body tingle pleasantly. The way he said it was so blatantly erotic, his tongue caressing the word as it breathed past sultry lips.   
  
  
"You forgot already? We've got a mission; taking out a warehouse. Unguarded. Should be easy prey."   
  
  
Duo shot straight up. Had Heero lost his mind? The war was over, but he'd heard of things like this happening to veterans, and Heero certainly had seen enough bloodshed and terror in his lifetime...   
  
  
"Mission?!" He sat, legs swung over the side of the bed, sheets puddled in his lap. He reached up to stroke his cross, before remembering that it wasn't there, that he had given it to Heero during the war...   
  
  
When his fingers met cold metal, Duo Maxwell's mind went blank in shock.   
  
  
"Heero?" Said pilot turned back around, still naked, his eyes questioning. "Oh God..." He curled up into a little ball, whimpering and rocking back and forth slowly.   
  
  
Was he going crazy? Had he traveled back in time, to during the war? He remembered that mission! It was supposed to be a routine bombing of a warehouse storing ammunition for several of the Romafeller Foundation's mobile suit armies. Instead, it had been an ambush. Duo had nearly been killed...   
  
  
That had been the first time Heero had told Duo that he was in love with him. As he lay bleeding in Heero's arms, one rib puncturing his left lung, every breath a hammer of agony falling with full force onto his chest, the Japanese pilot had gathered him into his arms and, thinking it was the last time he would ever hold Duo in his arms, whispered in Duo's language, so he would understand,   
  
  
"I love you."   
  
  
Heero looked over at Duo, a curious expression on his face. "Did you say something, baka?"   
  
  
*Baby just give me a sign   
And now that you're gone*   
  
  
With a sharp cry, Duo woke up.   
  
  
  
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Duo collapsed onto his bed, exhausted, not even an ounce of strength left in him to cry. Sometimes, it seemed to him that the world was out to get him, to remind him of what he had lost. Earlier that night, a group of almost twelve Japanese businessmen, prowling in their stylish Armani jackets and Gucci sunglasses, had filed into the bar and proceeded to converse entirely in Japanese. As Duo listened, letting himself become caught up in the soft rhythm of their accents, the words flowing from tongues that seemed to be coated in oil, several of the men stopped speaking and simply stared at him.   
  
  
*I just wanna be with you   
And I can't go on*   
  
  
Was there something wrong with him? Did he need counseling?   
  
  
He could still hear their accusations, strange lies rolling off their foreign tongues, still beautiful. Joe had stared at him oddly for a few moments after, but said nothing, to his credit. Duo knew that counseling wouldn't help. The only thing that could help was someone who was long gone.   
  
  
A strange ache was building in his stomach, crescendoing from ashes into a blaze of wildfire. It consumed him slowly from the inside out. He tipped his hat to the lady across the street as she dragged her laundry basket full of white Clorox briefs upstairs. She frowned at him.   
  
  
Duo walked up the stairs to his bedroom, fingers clasping the buttons at his throat, carefully undoing each plastic disc, careful not to rip his only work shirt. No, Heero was careful not to rip his shirt. Closing his eyes, Duo fell onto the bed, still undoing buttons, and one hand roaming over his chest.   
  
  
*I wanna be with you   
Wanna be with you*   
  
  
Heero was doing these things to him, kissing him slowly, holding him. Telling him that he loved him. That he was in love. That everything was okay. The further Duo slipped into his daydream, the slower his breath became, heartbeat slowing to match the beat of the tide slapping against the water. The tide and the moon both played over Heero's face in his dreams.   
  
  
He was dreaming, but it was real too, somehow. A memory. Heero and Duo, sitting in their Gundams, talking over the comm-link, watching the night sky.   
  
  
"Hey Heero," Duo said suddenly, a small smile spreading over his pale lips as he leaned into the metal of the seat, letting the weight of his braid tip his head back. "How much you wanna bet there's OZ soldiers watching the sky right now? Just two guys, wondering if the Gundam pilots are watching the sky wondering if they're watching the sky?"   
  
  
Heero snorted. "Why bother? We're in a war, Duo." The American nodded; it was the answer he'd expected. Light blue eyes slid shut in a pitiful facade of sleep, then snapped open as Heero began to speak again. "Maybe. I wouldn't bet a lot, though." Duo smiled in spite of himself, and closed his eyes again. "Maybe a little," Heero added. "Just not a lot."   
  
  
*I can't sleep and I'm up all night   
Through these tears I try to smile*   
  
  
Duo began to rush home every night from work, avoiding his old haunts. He had a date with Heero that he had to keep. All he had left of the Japanese pilot. And in a way, memories were safer than real life; dreams less painful than really feeling, really touching and crying and facing death.   
  
  
*I know the touch of your hand   
Can save my life*   
  
  
"Hey Jess," Joe said one night. The red-headed girl turned and fixed him with a glare. "Do you remember who that friend Duo was always talking about was? Katoru? Ketra?"   
  
  
"Quatre," the girl sighed, tugging at the ever-rising hem of her black skirt. "Quatre Winner. Rich guy, I hear." The old bartender nodded slowly, then reached beneath the counter for the phone.   
  
  
*Don't let me down   
Come to me now*   
  
  
"Come on," Duo sighed, tossing impatiently in his bed. Lately, it had been taking longer and longer to get to sleep. As a result, he had been sleeping through his alarm, often reluctant to leave his dreams. But tonight, he had been lying in bed for four hours with little success. If he didn't hurry up, he would miss Heero, and then he'd have to go an entire day without hearing his voice, touching his soft skin.   
  
  
Finally, desperate, he got up and padded downstairs to his kitchen, opening and shutting random cabinets until he found what he was looking for. Shaking two of the sleeping pills into his hand, Duo choked them down dry, barely making it to his bed before he dropped off.   
  
  
*I got to be with you somehow   
And now that you're gone*   
  
  
Heero and Duo were sitting on the beach where Heero had landed that fateful day, a fallen angel from Heaven, a fallen prince from a fairy kingdom.   
  
  
"Your epidermis is showing," Duo giggled. Heero swatted at him in annoyance, but not hard.   
  
  
"I *know* my epidermis is showing, baka," he snapped. Then his eyes took on a distinct gleam. "My problem is that your epidermis *isn't* showing."   
  
  
"I can fix that," Duo purred, pulling his shirt over his head. In one fell swoop, he leaned over and claimed Heero as his with a soft kiss that quickly deepened, tongues sparring in a battle that neither wanted to win.   
  
  
*I just wanna be with you   
And I can't go on*   
  
  
"Call on Line 7, sir," his secretary called as she yanked her coat off the rack, sending the entire thing crashing to the floor. Quatre rolled his eyes. That girl did not know her own strength.   
  
  
"Hello," he greeted emotionlessly, years of corporate bloodsucking leaving him very little sympathy for other chumps just starting out. Running a thin hand through his hair, he sighed. "Quatre here."   
  
  
"Mr. Winner?" The blonde man stared at the phone in surprise, holding the receiver away from his mouth as if it would suddenly bite him. No one called him "Mr. Winner". It was always 'Quatre', or 'Q', or 'Q-baby'.   
  
  
"Yes?" he asked, recovering in what he considered to be record time. "How can I help you?"   
  
  
"Do you know Duo Maxwell?"   
  
  
*I wanna be with you   
Wanna be with you*   
  
  
"Duo." Heero paused before him, helmet tucked under one slender arm, and reached out with his other hand to touch his cheek. Fingers so cold, but so gentle; Duo shivered under their caress.   
  
  
"I want you to come with me," Heero said softly, the wind playing with his dark bangs, sending them fluttering around his eyes, framing his handsome face. "To L-1. We could try again."   
  
  
Small tears dripped from his wide eyes. Worried, and a bit touched, the Japanese ex-pilot bent down and kissed his cheeks, licking the salt drops from his skin.   
  
  
"I--"   
  
  
"DUO!"   
  
  
*And now that you're gone   
Who am I without you now*   
  
  
Duo woke to find a strange figure perched on his bed. "Heero?" he asked, rubbing his eyes awkwardly. The figure moved forward into the streetlight filtering in through his window, illuminating deep blue eyes and golden hair that fell around his face in unruly waves.   
  
  
"Quatre," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be woken by an old friend he hadn't seen in years. "I've got to go back to sleep," he said.   
  
  
"Duo!" Quatre cried, holding his friend towards the light for a closer inspection. He'd grown...emaciated, was the only word he could find to describe it. So thin, so frail. He wanted to shake some sense into the man, but was afraid he'd break him in half like a twig.   
  
  
"What's happened to you?" he asked, holding him gingerly against his chest. "What's happened, Duo?"   
  
  
"Heero's waiting for me," Duo said, puzzled. "I need to go to him, Quatre. Let me go, I need to go back to sleep. Heero's waiting for me, and he'll leave if I don't give him an answer."   
  
  
*I can't go on   
I just wanna be with you*   
  
  
"What--?" Quatre had known that Duo had taken Heero's death after the war badly, but he would never imagine it would leave his friend like this. There was such a heated fervor, an unhealthy flush in his cheeks. He would not be swayed without firm words. "Duo," he said firmly. "Heero is dead. He is gone, Duo, and nothing can bring him back."   
  
  
"NOOO!!!" Duo screamed, covering his ears. "He asked me if I wanted to go with him, but I said no. But he's waiting for me now, Quatre, can't you see?" The blonde man released his friend with a barely suppressed sigh.   
  
  
"Yes," he whispered, turning away from the shaking and shivering boy. "I think I see now." He lifted himself off the bed carefully, so as not to disturb Duo, who was busy trying to get back to sleep, and left quietly before even the dogs were awake.   
  
  
*And now that you're gone   
I just wanna be with you*   
  
  
Duo licked his lips nervously, feeling his tongue slide over parched skin. His eyes were trained on the young man that stalked towards him with a determination that froze him in his place. "Heero," he greeted with more confidence than he felt.   
  
  
"Duo." Heero paused before him, helmet tucked under one slender arm, and reached out with his other hand to touch his cheek. Fingers so cold, but so gentle; Duo shivered under their caress.   
  
  
"I want you to come with me," Heero said softly, the wind playing with his dark bangs, sending them fluttering around his eyes, framing his handsome face. "To L-1. We could try again."   
  
  
Duo didn't have to ask what he meant. They had broken it off months into the war, as tension between OZ, between the Romafeller Foundation, between the Colonies, began to rise. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his former lover's intense gaze showed no sign of straying elsewhere.   
  
  
*And I can't go on   
I wanna be with you*   
  
  
"I love you," he whispered, snaking an arm around Heero's waist. "I love you so much. I'm just sorry that things ended like that..."   
  
  
"Me too," Heero replied, leaning into the unconscious warmth Duo presented. Dark blue eyes met guilty pale violet. "Why did you do it, Duo? I didn't want you to..." As if to reinforce his statement, he kissed the inside of Duo's wrist, tongue licking his pulse. Duo offered the only explanation he could.   
  
  
"I love you," he retorted stubbornly, cheeks heating. Heero studied him for a long moment, then smiled.   
  
  
*Wanna be with you*   
  
  
"Good," he replied, and together they walked into the coming sandstorm.   
  
  
  
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~Owari~ 


End file.
